


Between Bloody Palms and Broken Hearts

by Zi_Night



Series: A Tale of Surviving [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zi_Night/pseuds/Zi_Night
Summary: Five times Jaime comforted Rhaenys and the one time she comforted him. A look at Jaime's and Rhaenys's life while they are fugitives in Essos.A part of the A Tale of Surviving series, during the time gaps in What We Do Before. Can be read outside of the series but makes more sense after reading the previous installment.





	Between Bloody Palms and Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Next Thursday will be the Arthur/Stark children time gap fic. Also Ned has six children and it is just begging for a 5+1 fic.   
> I am still trying to do the big GoT rewrite fic but it's super slow going. I think I'll still publish the things I have, but, unless thing really speed up, it won't be weekly updates. Thanks so much for reading, the kudos, and all the kind words in the comments.

1\. Scraped Palms

When he had dreamed of being a Kingsguard he had never imagined that it would involve chasing a toddler through the gardens. And yet, this had become one of his favorite tasks of those expected of him. It ranked alongside sparring with Ser Arthur and listening to the rest of the Kingsguard tell stories. All the joy he thought he might have gotten from guarding the king died after he began guarding the king. There was something rejuvenating about chasing Princess Rhaenys through the gardens and it was something he need after being forced to turn a blind eye to the king’s cruelty.

After half her pregnancy had passed, Elia found herself constantly craving fresh air. She claimed that being inside too long made her nauseous and would frequently go out into the gardens. Sometimes she would go out accompanied by all her ladies, other days she would go out with Queen Rhaella, and occasionally she would ask that only the Kingsguard join her. He never questioned why her husband would never join her. Regardless of the company Elia had surrounded herself with, her daughter always went with her.

He was fortunate that Elia liked him enough to request him for these outings. Prince Lewyn was her preferred guard for most things, but when he joined her in the gardens it was usually as her uncle, not as her guard. Usually he or Ser Arthur would be the ones to stand guard and, on particularly uneventful days, they both might stand guard. If Prince Lewyn or Ser Arthur were there alongside him then Elia allowed her daughter to roam. It would fall to him to keep track of the girl and make sure no harm came to her.

Rhaenys liked to traverse the gardens and bring her mother back flowers. Sometimes she would grab hold of his hand and walk him around. She would point at flowers and ask him what they were, he would have to tell her that he didn’t know and she would usually huff and demand he make something up. Other times she would race from through the growths until she found a flower she liked. She was fast for a little girl and he would have to keep a quick pace to make sure he didn’t lose her. He had started keeping handkerchiefs on his person to try and wipe off the grime Rhaenys tended to gather.

Today, Elia decided that she wanted to enjoy the gardens with her uncle. He and Lewyn followed Elia and Rhaenys outside toward one of the sitting areas. The sun was high in the sky, but the consistent breeze keep the day from becoming too hot. Lewyn waited until after the servants had retreated to sit down. Rhaenys sat with them, doing her best to act like a little lady. She took little bites of her treats, wiped her mouth after sips of water, and held as still as she could. When Elia and Lewyn complemented her, she tried to be modest, but she couldn’t quite manage hiding the glow of pride that took over her face.

Once Rhaenys was tired of snacking, she waited for her mother to stop talking so that she could ask to leave. With Elia’s consent the girl hopped out of her chair, stood on the tips of her toes to give her mother a kiss, and raced off into the green. With his cloak fluttering behind him, he took off after her.

She seemed to be looking for something in particular, because she passed by flower patch after flower patch without even slowing down. She zipped from path to path with the reckless abandon only children had. The strong pitter-patter of her feet was accompanied by the metallic rustle of his chainmail.

He was grateful for the distance between them because, if it weren’t for that, he might have bowled her over when she abruptly stopped. She stopped in front of a heavily flowered bush full of yellow and red flowers. They both stepped onto the soil near the plant to get a better look at the flowers. The flowers were rather large, about the size of his palm, and seemed to swirl outward. The petals were a bright yellow and darkened into a rich red along the edges. Rhaenys carefully inspected the blooms and plucked the ones that struck her fancy. After gathering a few she spun around and darted away.

She raced around until she found a flower patch. It seemed like today Rhaenys wanted yellow flowers. This flower patch was full of little yellow blooms. The flowers were about the size of her little palms and had five overlapping petals. Near the center of the flower was a red imprint that made it look like there was a smaller red flower settle into it. Again, she looked over the patch and only pulled up the ones that pleased her. Now that she had enough flowers for a little bouquet, she handed the bundle to him before running off again.

She didn’t get far when her foot went out from under her. “Rhaenys!” He cries as the little girl tumbles to the ground. He barely has the presence of mind to, gently, set the flowers down as he kneels next to her. He helps her up and she looks at him with wide, watery eyes. He looks her over and gently brushed the dirt from her knees, all the while murmuring, what he hopes is, soothing nonsense. She presents her palm to him and he can see bright spots of blood rising from the scrape.

He fumbles with his belt for the square of cloth he kept there. Rhaenys’s lower lip wobbles and she takes loud sniffs, but she doesn’t cry. He carefully dabs and wipes her hand before wrapping the handkerchief around her palm. It’s unnecessary but it feels appropriate. “Do you want to go back to your mother?”

“Yes please.” Her voice is subdued and quiet. He picks up her flowers and offers them to her. She holds the bundle in her uninjured hand and curls it, and her injured hand, close to her chest. He had thought to take her by the hand and walk her back, but she leans against his chest and looks at him with mournful eyes, so he scoops her up. He can feel Rhaenys cuddle against his chest as they walk back.

            She stops sniffling part way back and, by the time they close in on the sitting area, she’s thrown her arm over his shoulder so she can look around. Elia and Lewyn stop talking at their approach. The pair doesn’t look particularly concerned, but he’s sure the only reason Elia doesn’t take Rhaenys from his arms is because her belly has gotten too big the hold her properly. He sets Rhaenys on the ground and she timidly presents her mother with the flowers.

            “These are beautiful sweetheart.” She looks over her daughter. “What happened to your hand?”

            “I fell.” She lifts her hand so her mother can inspect it. Elia unwraps the makeshift bandage and looks over the scrape. She wets a napkin with water and gently cleans the wound. “Uncle Jaime covered it.” Rhaenys had started calling them all uncle after being told to call Prince Lewyn uncle Lewyn.

            “Did he?” Rhaenys bobbed her head enthusiastically. Once Elia finished cleaning the scrape she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the little princess’s wrist.  “That’s very nice of him. Did you thank him?”

            He can hear Lewyn trying to stifle a laugh at Rhaenys’s scandalized expression. The girl turned to look at him with wide eyes and reached up to hold his arm. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Thank you, uncle Jaime.”

            “It was my pleasure, princess.”

2\. Haunting Monsters

            Their house in Braavos is small. A large main room that serves as kitchen and dining area, a privy, and a single bedroom. The bedroom was large enough for them to squeeze in two beds, but there is little in the way of privacy. Right now, he thought it was for the best. They’re safety here was too uncertain and he wanted to keep Rhaenys in his sight as much as possible.

            They’re closeness meant he knew Rhaenys better than he had known anyone else. When he woke suddenly and turned to the bed next to him, he could tell the girl was upset. She cried like she wasn’t allowed to. Stoic and quietly, with her shoulders trembling like she was trying to keep it in. The ripple of her blanket gave her away and he wondered how long she had been up.

            The movement didn’t stop when he pulled himself out of his bed, nor when he sat down on hers. She doesn’t stop when he puts his hand on her shoulder, but she does turn to curl against his leg. He can feel her tears soak into the fabric of his pants. He rubs careful circles against her back and gives her a moment.

            “Was it your mother?” He can feel the clenching of her little hands and the slight bobbing of her head. The vision of her mother and brother dying had haunted her for months. Once before their deaths and far too many after. The vision had saved her life, but now it seemed to punish her for it. Rhaenys had spent so many night dreaming this nightmare that sometimes she was afraid to even go to sleep.

            He wasn’t made for comforting children. He doesn’t know what to do as this little girl trembles against his side. He doesn’t know what words will sooth her. Telling her Elia died bravely won’t change the fact that she’s dead. Telling her the monster was across the sea won’t keep it from coming for her. So, he tells her the only thing he can think to tell her. “Princess, I am here with you. I will protect you.”

            She turns to look at him. Her eyes are red-rimmed and watery, but it doesn’t do much to dull the bright purple of her eyes. She has seen so much and was only liable to see so much more. Elia had mentioned that Rhaegar had also had visions. Had that been the source of his melancholy?

            “Rhaenys, do you want to go back to sleep or would you like to do something?” He can’t really tell how close to morning they are but he’s willing to start his day now if that’s what she wants.

            The little girl sniffles and rubs her wrist across her nose. “Will you tell me a story?”

            “Of course. What kind of story would you like to hear?”

            She hummed and hawed. When the idea comes to her, she sits up excited. If this hadn’t been because of a nightmare he might have been tempted to laugh. “I want to hear the story of the Kingswood Brotherhood.”

            This time he can’t help the smile. “That’s a good choice, princess. Where would you like me to start?”

            “The last part. With you and Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan.”

            It was a story he had told her before. Though really, if he was being honest with himself, it was the story he had told her most. That final fight against the brotherhood was one of his fondest memories and he understood why she wanted to hear it. She wanted to hear a story where the knights beat the monster. “You’d best get comfortable, princess. This is a long story.”

            She nodded her head and began to fuss with her covers. She pulled back a corner and smothered another before she decided that wasn’t right and put it back. He was sure she was fidgeting for the sake of fidgeting. Eventually, she stopped in a huff and turned to look at him. The look she gave him was decidedly shy and her voice was a soft murmur, “Will you lay down?”

            “If that’s what you’d like.” He lays down and lets her cover him in. Once she’s satisfied with his comfort she covers herself and cuddles against his side. Her little face rests against his arm and she looks at him while she waits.

            He began the story by reminding Rhaenys of the things that lead up to the fight. Of how the brotherhood stalked the Kingswood and kidnapped nobles to sell them back to their families. He reminds her that one of those bandits put an arrow through Lord Commander Hightower’s hand and how he had made off with her mother’s jewels. That that injury was the reason why Ser Arthur was put in charge of hunting down the bandits. How Arthur had charmed the smallfolk so that they would stop protecting the outlaws. How that allowed them to find and confront the leader and the most dangerous member of the brotherhood.

            He builds the suspense of their hunt. He recalls how they had been tracking the outlaws for days before they had found them. The outlaws had been disorganized after losing their protection and much easier to find. How, when the outlaws realized they were going to be caught, they turned to face justice showcasing the reckless bravery they were known for. He tells her how, in the chaos of the battle, a young squire ended up facing off against the dreaded Smiling Knight. How that squire was able to hold his own against the knight.

            Usually this would be the point where Rhaenys would pipe up and remark about how that squire had been him, but when he turns to look at her she is sound asleep. He continues talking just in case. He quietly talks about how Arthur had found them crossing swords and had intervened to protect him. He recalls how Arthur had let the Smiling Knight retrieve another sword after his had snapped and how the fight had ended quickly after that. He ends the story the same way he always does, with Arthur knighting him.

            He wishes the princess sweet dreams as he falls asleep. He hopes that instead of dreaming of a monster killing her family, she dreams of a squire and a white knight taking down a smiling knight.

3\. Familial Doubts

            Princess Rhaenys had a charisma that rivaled her father’s. She had successfully charmed their neighbors and all the kids who could be found near their street. The couple next door thought her polite and well manner and the wife offered to watch her if he ever needed. The old man on the other side like her because she was quiet and educated. More than once the man had stopped him to tell him that he was raising a good girl. The kids liked her _because_ she was charismatic. She talked them out of trouble with adults like she was born for it, and sometimes she was able to talk them into treats.

            Every day she would come back with different stories about what she had done and about what others would tell her. Though of all the people he heard of, he heard of Bella the most. He would hear about how she and Bella did this, how Bella had told her that, how Bella’s mom had given her that, and so much more. He had never met the girl, only having seen her in passing, but he was confident that she was Rhaenys’s best friend. He was grateful for Bella because she had done much for Rhaenys’s happiness early in their stay in Braavos.

            When Rhaenys came home today, he was expecting a story about how she and Bella had raced around the canals or something of the sort. For a moment that’s what he got. Bella’s older sister had joined them and had paid for a boat to take them around the city. Her older sister had regaled them with stories all the while. Rhaenys’s favorite one had been about a pirate queen who had been loved by a prince, who had later become king. Here Rhaenys paused and asked him, “Uncle Jaime, did father love my mama?”

            The question caught him off guard. “Of course he did.” His response felt a little too quick. The look she sent him made him feel like she didn’t believe him. She furrowed her brow into a glare before looking down at her hands.

            “You know, I asked her if she knew any stories from Westeros. She told me of a recent story about a prince who threw the kingdom into chaos because he wanted to be with the woman he loved.” Rhaenys rubbed the pad of her thumb against the nail on her opposite thumb. “If he loved mama, why did he leave her? If he loved us, why didn’t he stay and protect us?”

            He remembers the week when Rhaegar came back to King’s Landing. Lord Commander Hightower had left to fetch the prince after his friend, Jon Connington, had been exiled, but only the prince had returned. He remembered the tense meetings between king and prince, but not once had Aerys asked why Rhaegar had taken Lyanna. He wondered if Rhaegar had explained himself to Elia. When the Princess of Dorne had seen her husband off, standing alone with her children safely tucked away inside, had she known why? What was he supposed to say to Rhaenys when he also didn’t know why? When he couldn’t think of anything, he just told her the truth, “I don’t know.”

            It broke his heart when Rhaenys only nodded. It was the answer she had expected. Still the little princess rubbed her thumb against her nail. There was still something else she wanted to say. A part of him hoped that she would lose her nerve. He had spent all of the rebellion at the king’s side and yet he knew little about why the rebellion had unfolded how it did. He had no idea how to answer her questions.

            He should have known better than to think Rhaenys might lose her nerve. She was fearless and not one to shy from the truth just because it might hurt her. “Do you think my father loved me?” She looked him directly in the eye. She looked sad, but dry eyed. He knew her well enough to know that this question was nothing, that the next one was the one that mattered.

            “I think he did.”

            “And how do you know when a person loves you?”

            His answer comes quick. “They do things to ensure your happiness.”

            The princess hummed. “I don’t remember much of my father,” she admitted. “But maybe it doesn’t matter. My mother loved me, I won’t ever doubt that. She died so that I may have a chance at a lifetime of happiness. Even if my father didn’t love me, even if he hated me, she has loved me enough to last me the rest of my life.”

            “She did. Your mother loved you with all her heart and soul.”

            “And you love me.” Her confidence in that statement made him proud.

            “I do love you. I’ll do what it takes to make sure you are safe and happy.”

            She looked at him thoughtfully. “It would make me happy to have you by my side. Please make sure you watch for your own safety too.” Rhaenys had her father’s easy charm, but also her mother’s cunning. Elia had always been quick to recognize an opportunity, even if she didn’t plan to do anything with it. He had heard her lecture her daughter on the importance of listening to other people’s words to better learn what they wanted. As far as he knew, Rhaenys had naturally learned how to _appeal to aligned interests_ , as Prince Lewyn had called it, but Elia had always been quick to assure her daughter that she had done well.

            “If that will make you happy then I will do my best.”

4\. Omen Nightmares

            “Rhaenys, you need to sleep.” Her eyes were red and watery. The space around them looked dark and bruised. The rest of her face was sallow and drawn. She lacked the energy she usually did and even Balerion worrying at her hand didn’t move her as it usually did.

            “I was sleeping. Or rather, was trying to.” Her voice was slow and wobbly. The sentence itself sounded wrong to his ears. “I just. I don’t want dreams. I can’t tell them apart. What’s a dream and what’s a dragon dream?”

            “Was it the dreams? Are they keeping you from sleeping?” He had asked her once if she dreamed every night. She had told him that most nights she didn’t dream of anything. That sometimes she dreamed of her family’s murder, sometimes she dreamt things that she felt were dragon dreams, and that sometimes she dreamt things so absurd she knew they were nothing.

            She bobs her head for longer than would be appropriate. “Everyday. Every nap. The throne hides behind my eyelids. It’s waiting. It wants me.”

            “The throne? The Iron Throne?” She nodded again. This time for a reasonable amount of time. “Rhaenys, tell me what you mean. What did you dream?”

            She poked at Balerion. The cat allowed it for a moment before he started to bat at her finger. “I’m in the hall. The Great Hall. And I am scared. I don’t want to be there, but I’m there. I want to leave, I think I try to leave, but I just end up closer to the throne. It’s big and it looms and I don’t want to be there. As it gets closer it curls. It reaches and stretches. Sometimes I wake up. But sometimes I stay there. It pins me to the floor and I can’t escape. I don’t think it hurts me but it consumes me.”

            “And this is what’s keeping you from sleeping?”

            She ignored his question and instead responded with, “What if it’s a dream? A _dream_ dream?”

            “I think it may just be a nightmare.” He didn’t say that just to comfort her. There was something different about how she was describing this dream compared to how she described her premonitions. When she described premonitions, she would talk about how she saw the events of her dream and there was always a certainty that there was more to the dream than what she had seen. That there was something to be interpreted. She hadn’t said that here. She hadn’t described this dream as something she had seen and the fact that she had to question if it was a premonition made it different from all her other premonitions.

            “Is that why it won’t leave me? Is that why it stays like the monster does?” The words were doleful but there was hope there. The Mountain haunted her but she had learned how to fight him. When that premonition came to haunt her, she remembered how much she hated the Mountain and she remembered the pride she had for her mother, for seeing an impossible opportunity. She remembered so that, when the dream came, she wasn’t scared. Instead she was angry and proud and defiant.

            “It is a nightmare. Nothing more.”

            “Only a nightmare.” She plucks at the skin on the back of Balerion’s neck, before petting the cat properly. The cat loved Rhaenys too much to protest under normal circumstances and the cat was perceptive enough know Rhaenys was upset, so he allowed the odd treatment.

            “What have I told you about nightmares?”

            “We learn them.” She paused and let out a loud sigh. “We learn them so that we may stand against them. But uncle Jaime, what is there to learn? How do you stand against an enemy that is guaranteed to outlast you?”

            “We stand against our enemies. The throne is an expectation placed on you that you don’t want. We don’t stand against expectation. We either find ways around them or find a way to make the expectation suit us.”

            She let out another sigh. Louder than the one before it. “I don’t want to outthink it. I want it to leave me be. But it doesn’t care what I want.” She scooped Balerion off the table in front of her. The cat curled around her torso and lifted his head to lick at her jaw. “I will try to sleep.” She said, but didn’t move away.

            He watched her stand there for a moment before asking, “Would you like me to do something?”

            She blinked at him. “I do. Want you to do something. Will you sit by me? I am alone in the dream and I don’t want to be alone. Maybe if you and Balerion are near you will come with me.”

            Her request was rushed, but he understood. “Of course, Rhaenys.”

            She marched off to her bed. When she got there, she didn’t bother changing into sleeping clothes. She settled into the center of the bed and cuddled Balerion to her chest. After he sat down she wiggled back until her back was pressed against his lower back.

            “You called me Rhaenys.” He jumped at the sound of her voice. It had been quiet for such a long while that he thought she had fallen asleep. “You only called me Rhaenys. You only only call me Rhaenys when you are concerned.”

            “I am concerned. Not sleeping is bad for you.”

            “It is.” There was a bit more shifting. “Thank you for watching out for me.”

            He reached back and put his hand on her arm. “Always.”

            “I know,” she said through half a yawn. “Mama said you would.”

5\. First Blood

            Their home in Myr was large enough for them to have their own rooms. In Braavos they couldn’t afford more than their tiny home, in Volantis they had stayed knowing they would leave and shared an inn room, and in the Summer Isles it had been the same. Technically their stay in Myr would also be temporary but the next time they moved it would be to head to Dorne. They would have little need for excess wealth in Dorne so they decided to spend their time in Myr in opulence.

            When he heard Rhaenys shriek in her room, he cursed that want for opulence. He had been lying in bed trying to find the motivation to get up, but the sound had him launching out of bed. He snatched a dagger off his nightstand and raced through their home. Neither of them had questioned how far one room was from the other and he cursed that lack of foresight.

            When he burst into Rhaenys’s room he could smell the coppery scent of blood in the air. Rhaenys sat up in her bed, her hands blood covered and shaking. He made his way to her side as he scanned the room for threats. He didn’t see anything but he still wrapped his unoccupied arm around her waist and pulled her off the bed. Her fingers left little bloody prints on his arm as she reached down to hold it. Her grip was bruising and her back pressed solidly against his front.

            It took him too long to put together the scene. The room was bright and it highlighted the emptiness of the space. It also highlighted the dark red stain on the princess’s bed and the one on her sleeping shift. Balerion made his way into the room and rubbed his head against Rhaenys’s foot. Neither he nor the cat saw any threat. He put his dagger on a nearby piece of furniture and lowered his head until it thumped against the back of her head.

            “It’s alright Rhaenys. Everything is fine.” He could feel the tension melt out of him.

            “I’m bleeding! I woke up and I was covered in blood!”

            He barely remembers the lesson. When he and Cersei had been young she would convince him to dress in her clothes so that she may dress in his and go to his lessons, instead of hers. Once, instead of needlework and manners, the septa had sat him down to talk to him about flowering. How one day, when a girl is old enough, she bleeds for the first time and can be considered a woman. Usually he could manage a passable impression of Cersei, but that day he couldn’t resist making faces. Luckily, the septa had considered it normal and hadn’t realized that he wasn’t Cersei. He had quickly forgotten the lesson, but he had paid enough attention to remember it now.

            “I know you’re bleeding. It’s normal. It’s… it’s called moon’s blood or something like that.”

            Rhaenys craned her head back to look at look at him. Her nose was scrunched in disgust and she did not look pleased. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

            “I had forgotten,” he admitted. “This wasn’t something I had to concern myself with and before we fled I spent my time surrounded by men.”

            “Are you sure this is natural? That I shouldn’t go see a healer?”

            “If you are in pain we can go see one, but if you aren’t I think it would be unnecessary.”

            “Then what are we supposed to do?”

            “You should definitely wash up. And we should probably wash your shift and bed.” He thought for a moment. “I think we’re supposed to pad your smallclothes with extra fabric, but there is nothing we can do about the bleeding. All we can do is try to contain the mess and wait the bleeding out.”

            Rhaenys pouted. “How long is the bleeding supposed to last?”

            “A week, I think. I was told about it once but I don’t remember much of what the septa had said.”

            She sighs and strikes at his arm until he lets go. She leans to pet Balerion, but catches a glimpse of her hand and pulls it back. She grabs a rag and wipes the blood from her hands before she begins to riffle through her drawers. She begins to pull out smallclothes and fabric, so he goes to strip her bed.

            _If only father could see him now_. Stripping a girl’s bed so that he may wash it, doing a servant’s work. His father had raised him to be Lord of Casterly Rock and had continued to think of him as such even after he joined the Kingsguard. What would he say if he saw his lordly son doing not just a servant’s task, but also a woman’s task?

            Rhaenys tossed her shift on the bundle he had gathered and leaves for the wash room. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the red mess her flowering has left on her thighs. According to the septa, Rhaenys was a woman now, but to him she was still a girl. _But others will see the woman they will want her to be._ Her flowering was a reminder that she was a growing woman. Though she had not shown much interest in men, they would be interested in her.

            He had vowed to Elia that he would protect her daughter and he would fulfill that vow. No matter what came for Rhaenys, he would be there for her. He could say that he would protect her with his life, but he knew that she didn’t want that. So, he would do everything he could to make sure she would live and that he remained by her side.

+1. Love Freely Given

            There was something generally peaceful about the Summer Isles. The lands were green, lush, and blooming. The people were polite and giving, even when they didn’t share a language. There was a certain sense of unity and love that could be found in every corner of the islands. Even in Tall Trees Town, the hustle and bustle of being a major city wasn’t enough to break the idyllic calm.

            Tall Trees was a refreshing change from Volantis. Here it seemed like a waste to spend all day locked indoors. He would walk through the town with Balerion trotting at his heels. As he went around purchasing fruits he had never heard of and trying to learn words his tongue tangled over; Balerion would dart away and come back with feathers, flowers, and meats, some of which he had to pay for. Some days Rhaenys would join them in their wanderings, but most mornings she attended archery practice. Her teacher was a seasoned archer who had served on many ships, but had taken to teaching after her daughter, Layla, was born.

            Rhaenys had found a quick friend in Layla and spent many evenings, after her practice, with the girl. Like with Bella, Rhaenys would come back and tell him all about what she and her friend had done during the day. A part of him hoped that the habit was one Rhaenys would never grow out of. There was something reassuring about listening to her talk. If he had to say what it was, he would say that it was reassuring because it let him know that she was happy.

            Today, Rhaenys had arrived back to their room before he had. He had gotten distracted looking at the Talking Trees. The trees were much more interesting once he knew some of the words they housed. Balerion walked in after him and wasted no time perching himself on the princess’s shoulders. She reached up to scratch at his neck and he reached forward to paw at her hand in welcome.

            They spoke of everything and nothing while he was getting settled. They asked polite questions over each other’s day and gave equally polite answers. Rhaenys laughed when he told her about the mischief Balerion had wrought. He complimented her when she told him about her achievements during practice. It was only after he had settled, that Rhaenys started a conversation in earnest.

            “Uncle Jaime, how do you know when you’re in love?”

            “You’re too young to be in love.” The response came quick, like he had been primed to say it. Rhaenys was barely twelve, beautiful but only a girl. She should be spending her days playing and learning, not contemplating love. _You were younger than her when you fell in love_ , a traitorous part of him whispered.

            Rhaenys shot him an unamused look. “I wasn’t talking about me. Layla thinks she’s falling in love with some apprentice shipbuilder. So, how do you know when you’re in love?”

            “I would say that you know when you’re in love with someone because you want to be with them. You want to do things to make them happy. You are willing to make sacrifices to make them happy” So much of what he had done had been because he was trying to please Cersei. He had joined the Kingsguard because of Cersei.

            A sly look crossed over her face. “Have you been in love?” When he didn’t respond, she leaned forward eagerly. “You were! Who were they? What did you do to make them happy?”

            “I did many things. Small gestures and large. I would have given my rights to Casterly Rock to be with her.”

            “Really? How romantic.” Her eyes glittered with delight. “What did she do to make you happy?”

            “She,” he started, but nothing else followed. He tried to think, but nothing came to mind. They had laid together, but was that really all there was? “She,” what had Cersei done for him? Try as he might he couldn’t remember a thing she had done for him. He could remember things she had said she had done for him, but now as he thought back to them he could see that they had been for her, “She…”

            Rhaenys’s face wilted as he struggled to think of something. Even Balerion had turned to look at him with something that looked like concern. He couldn’t stand the looks and turned down to his hands. Something, there had to be something. She liked to say that they were one person split into two bodies, so why was it that he could think of nothing she had done to make him happy?

            He didn’t hear Rhaenys make her way towards him. Her hands on his shoulders caught him unaware and his head darted up to look at her, but he couldn’t see her through the haze over his eyes. One more time he said, “She,” but still nothing came to him. He couldn’t help but wonder if his sister had truly loved him, or if that was something she had told him so that he may love her.

            “I’m sorry, Jaime.” She crushed him into a hug. For his perch, Balerion twisted around so that he may lick at his cheek. He must have been a sorry sight for Balerion to want to comfort him. He didn’t know what to do, so he embraced the princess back. He felt a numbness come over him. He had done so much in the name of Cersei’s love and he didn’t want to believe that love to be a lie, but what other option was there? If Cersei had done things to make him happy, how happy could it have made him if he couldn’t remember them now?

            “I love you.” The statement was oddly placed and he couldn’t help jerking back to look at Rhaenys’s face. The haze was gone from his eyes and he could see the bright blush that came over her face. “Not the way you loved this woman, but I love you.” She hugged him again, her hair was soft against his cheek. “I promise I’ll make you happy,” the words were practically whispered into his ear.

            He thought of his time with Rhaenys. Of chasing her through the gardens in the Red Keep, of listening to her tell him things, of teaching her how to use a sword, and watching her grow. Rhaenys had been in his life for about a decade and he felt like he remembered every moment of it. “You already do, princess.”


End file.
